Lirik Lagu Heavy Horses - Jethro Tull
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TIPS PENCARIAN LIRIK FAVORIT ANDA
ANDA MENGETAHUI JUDUL DAN NAMA PENYANYI
- Ketikkan nama penyanyi dan judul lagu, berikan tanda kutip di judul lagu, misal: Yovie "Menjaga Hati";
- bila tidak berhasil, coba untuk mengilangkan tanda kutip, misal: Yovie Menjaga Hati; atau
- dapat juga dengan mengeklik menu A B C D.., lalu cari berdasarkan nama artis. Yovie dimulai dengan Y, klik Y. Lihat daftar lagu, dan dapatkan yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI NAMA PENYANYI
- Ketik nama penyanyi, misal: YOVIE, akan muncul banyak halaman, telusuri dan pilih dari halaman-halaman tersebut; atau
- klik menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis Y, cari Yovie, dan cari lirik yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI SYAIR
- Ketikkan penggalan syair yang Anda ketahui, misal:
Tanpamu tiada berarti
Tak mampu lagi berdiri
Cahaya kasihmu menuntunku
Kembali dalam dekapan tanganmu - Masukkan kata-kata penting. Misal: tiada berarti berdiri cahaya dekapan.
- Hindari kata-kata yang berkemungkinan memiliki ada dua versi atau lebih. Misal: tanpamu dapat ditulis tanpa mu.
TETAP TIDAK DAPAT MENEMUKAN LIRIK YANG ANDA CARI
- Pilih menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis atau judul lagu.
- Bila masih tidak dapat menemukan lirik yang Anda cari, mungkin kami bisa membantu Anda. Silakan menghubungi kami.
Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust,An October's day, towards evening,Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough,Salt on a deep chest seasoning.Last of the line at an honest day's toil,Turning the deep sod under,Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone,Flies at the nostrils plunder.The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the Percheron viewith the Shire on his feathers floating.Hauling soft timber into the duskto bed on a warm straw coating.
Heavy Horses, move the land under me.Behind the plough gliding slipping and sliding free.Now you're down to the fewAnd there's no work to do:The tractor's on its way".Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seedto keep the old line going.And we'll stand you abreast at the back of the woodbehind the young trees growing.To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth,and your eighteen hands at the shoulder.And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dryand the nights are seen to draw colderthey'll beg for your strength, your gentle poweryour noble grace and your bearing.And you'll strain once again to the sound of the gullsin the wake of the deep plough, sharing.
Standing like tanks on the brow of the hillUp into the cold wind facingIn stiff battle harness, chained to the worldAgainst the low sun racing.Bring me a wheel of oaken woodA rein of polished leatherA Heavy Horse and a tumbling skyBrewing heavy weather.
Bring a song for the eveningClean brass to flash the dawnacross these acres glisteninglike dew on a carpet lawn.In these dark towns folk lie sleepingas the heavy horses thunder byto wake the dying citywith the living horseman's cry.At once the old hands quicken,bring pick and wisp and curry comb,thrill to the sound of allthe heavy horses coming home.
Heavy Horses, move the land under me.Behind the plough gliding slipping and sliding free.Now you're down to the fewAnd there's no work to do:The tractor's on its way".Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seedto keep the old line going.And we'll stand you abreast at the back of the woodbehind the young trees growing.To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth,and your eighteen hands at the shoulder.And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dryand the nights are seen to draw colderthey'll beg for your strength, your gentle poweryour noble grace and your bearing.And you'll strain once again to the sound of the gullsin the wake of the deep plough, sharing.
Standing like tanks on the brow of the hillUp into the cold wind facingIn stiff battle harness, chained to the worldAgainst the low sun racing.Bring me a wheel of oaken woodA rein of polished leatherA Heavy Horse and a tumbling skyBrewing heavy weather.
Bring a song for the eveningClean brass to flash the dawnacross these acres glisteninglike dew on a carpet lawn.In these dark towns folk lie sleepingas the heavy horses thunder byto wake the dying citywith the living horseman's cry.At once the old hands quicken,bring pick and wisp and curry comb,thrill to the sound of allthe heavy horses coming home.
